


is it wickedness?

by bughaw



Series: snow white and rose red [1]
Category: Banana Bus Squad, Video Blogging RPF
Genre: M/M, Minor Character Death, Psycho!Smitty, Sort Of, murder boyfriends
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-05
Updated: 2018-07-05
Packaged: 2019-06-05 16:43:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15174989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bughaw/pseuds/bughaw
Summary: The one where Smitty's not so fine in the head and John's willing to do anything for him.





	is it wickedness?

**Author's Note:**

> i was working on the ABO au but then i felt the urge to write smth else so now y'all can have this thing
> 
> idk where it came from but have fucked up!smitty and slightly less fucked up or maybe more fucked up!john woo
> 
> (i havent edited this yet whoops)

The house was silent as it was dark when John came home.

 

If it were any other day, he would have just taken it in stride since it usually meant that Smitty was caught up with work. Had it been a normal Tuesday, John would have went about his evening as he typically did. He would dump his bag on the sofa, turn on the television, and proceed on making dinner for himself and Smitty.

 

Except… it wasn’t a normal Tuesday night, and it’s with his heart in his throat and panic filling his veins that he rushed to their bedroom, hoping against all odds that he’d find Smitty just sleeping there. It was in vain, but there was a small, hopeful part in John that still hadn’t died out after all these years.

 

Their bedroom was empty but there was light coming from their en suite. Opening the door made him regret leaving Smitty to his thoughts the entire day.

 

The scene inside was something that came straight from a horror movie. Splatters of dried blood covered the normally white room. If he hadn’t been more careful while coming in, John would have slipped and cracked his head open, but he was used to it. Years of experience made him more alert when it came to situations like this.

 

To his relief, Smitty was in the tub and not someplace else looking for another victim. His white hair was stained red at the ends, and his pale skin was a stark contrast to the bloodbath around him. Beside him was a man that John could not recognize. In fact, nobody would be able to recognize him due to his current state. There were long cuts running along his face, from his cheeks down to his neck. Through the crevices blood slowly seeped through, and with morbid fascination he watched as Smitty silent tried to rub them back in. The corpse only had one unseeing eye, and a chunk of his neck was missing—probably somewhere around the bathroom.

 

The entire space reeked, and when he neared the pair residing in the tub, he wasn’t surprised when he noticed that they were stewing in blood and fecal matter. There was bile rising in his throat, and any other person would have seized up, but he didn't. He still moved despite the uncanny scene. With a gentle demeanor and much gentler voice, he reached out while calling Smitty’s name.

 

“Smit?” His eyes trailed between Smitty and the other man. In the silence of the bathroom, he could almost hear his heart thundering in his chest. “It’s John.”

 

When Smitty reacted to his voice, it was lethargic at best. His head lolled a bit as he turned to look at John. At that point, he still had a tight grip on the unnamed man’s arm, as if he was afraid that it would disappear. He probably was.

 

Despite the mess, John knelt beside the tub. Smitty’s eyes followed his movements with startling clarity. It left John hopeful.

 

“Hi,” he breathed out, his hand now pressed up to Smitty’s arms. He deflated a bit when Smitty startled and directed his green gaze to his hand before looking up at him again. Still, he smiled. “Made a bit of a mess here, babe.”

 

John winced when Smitty tugged the body closer to him while nodding. Now at a different angle, he noticed that it lacked fingers. If he bothered to check the feet, he was certain that they would be missing toes as well. While squeezing Smitty’s arm, he tried to locate whatever object Smitty used to create such a scene in their bathroom.

 

An unintelligible noise escaped his lips when he found the kitchen knife in between Smitty’s bare legs. “Smit, I’m taking the knife, okay?” He made sure to keep his hand in Smitty’s vision so that it would not startle the man so much. Slowly, he extracted the knife and tossed it aside before making sure that Smitty was not harmed in any way.

 

Another false hope, since there was a bruise blooming on his pale jaw and scratches running down the expanse of his creamy thigh.

 

“You like hugging the man, huh?” He asked, not really expecting an answer. Carefully, he tucked some stray hair behind Smitty’s ear. His smile only brightened when the other man leaned into his touch. “I’m a much better hugger than that man, Smit. How about you give me one instead.”

 

With baited breath, he paused and waited for Smitty to make a move. There was a strong possibility that he would cooperate, and that would make John’s evening since he didn’t really know how to remove Smitty from the body at that moment. This was something new—when John would find him in such a state, he was normally much removed, and much more coherent as he waited for John to help clean up.

 

This was uncharted territory, and John would be damned if he failed both himself and Smitty.

 

His heart leapt out his throat when Smitty finally let go of the corpse’s arm. Forcing himself to not move while waiting was no easy feat, but it proved fruitful when, in the next moment, he found his lap occupied and his neck hugged tight to the point of choking. He kept his touch light as he pulled back. “Easy there, Smit. Wouldn’t want to choke me now, would you?”

 

Smitty nodded, and John ended up chuckling softly. A response, that was good.

 

“Couldn’t stand to wait, babe?” He asked as he carefully heaved them both up. Smitty’s legs tightened around his waist as he moved them towards the sink. He chuckled some more when Smitty shook his head as John placed him down on the counter. “I would have helped, y’know.”

 

No response. He wasn’t surprised.

 

“Can you stay here for me, babe?” He was patient and didn’t step away until Smitty nodded. “I’ll clean this up first, okay? After, I’ll help you wash up.” Smitty looked hesitant when he stepped back, and with fondness bubbling in his chest, he pressed identical kisses on the man’s cheeks in hopes of placating him.

 

Smitty made a sound that John could only translate as something joyous, and with his boy settled on the counter, he started working through the mess Smitty made.

 

Any other man would have run or have Smitty locked up years ago. John had already made peace with the fact that he was not like other men.

 

Cleaning up took much longer than it normally would have since there was no prepping involved for this episode. Had John been with Smitty throughout the day, he would have made sure that plenty of plastic was involved in the bathroom to make the outcome less troublesome on their part. He wasn’t complaining though. In fact, he never complained.

 

It was routine at this point.

 

The body was stashed into one of those giant black garbage bags before being transported to the garage. On his way back, John brought along the cleaning supplies he prepared for situations like this and went about cleaning the mess. The blood didn’t bother him so much now, but the random finger or two always startled him.

 

He put those aside and made sure to remember to bring them to the garage right after. His clothes were stripped when every crevice was scrubbed clean, while the tub was drained and left to be cleaned another day. When he returned to the sink, he found a much relaxed Smitty who was on the verge of falling asleep.

 

“Hey, don’t fall asleep on me now…” He nudged Smitty. It was ironic that the boy was now the reddest part of the bathroom. His normally pristine white locks were disheveled, and his green eyes lost the clarity he had just a few moments prior. There was a bonelessness to him that John always enjoyed seeing, specially during nights like this. Bruises painted his creamy skin, and they would have looked much lovelier if John had been the one to put them there in the first place.

 

Smitty squinted at him as a smile began dancing on his lips. “Jo-hn… hey,” he rasped in greeting. John returned a smile twice as bright. “Wha’ hap’nd?”

 

(It was fucked up. John shouldn’t be finding him so beautiful after a kill, but he did.)

 

John ran his fingers through white locks while nuzzling Smitty’s cheek. “Was a bad night. You don’t remember?”

 

“Mm-mm.”

 

“It was a man this time… do you recall who he was?”

 

A pinched look flittered through Smitty’s face before he shook his head. John sighed exasperatedly.

 

“I guess we’ll find out in the days to come.”

 

“Mhm. Clean?” Smitty leaned forward into John's arms, all but melting into them.

 

This boy would be the death of him. Smitty’s legs were shaky when John helped him to a different bathroom to shower. Under the spray, Smitty clung to him, and it was so, so inefficient but John did not complain. It had been a bad day, a bad night, and this was the least he could do for his boy.

 

(He’d never admit it out loud, and he knew that his boy would never call him out on it, but he was already in the deep end. If it took helping Smitty get away with murder to keep him happy, then John was all to willing to do it.)

**Author's Note:**

> the continuation of [the great escape](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15150242) (formerly titled: there are stars in his eyes) is still in the works so please bear with me :)
> 
> hope you enjoyed this one tho!
> 
> if you scream at dumb yters like i do hmu on [twitter](http://twitter.com/bloooie)


End file.
